


Blood Curse

by Regina_Wren



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Action/Adventure, Canon-Typical Violence, Crack Treated Seriously, Explicit Language, Family, Gen, Half-Siblings, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-05
Updated: 2009-12-05
Packaged: 2019-10-09 12:56:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17407328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regina_Wren/pseuds/Regina_Wren
Summary: With the war over there are wounds to heal, futures to decide, and for Harry a whole new life to look forward to. He just never expected that life to include a brother. Especially not a brother called Draco Malfoy.





	Blood Curse

Two men made their way through the halls on Level Four of St Mungo's keeping a close watch on the signs.

"Merula Schwarz Ward... Merula Schwarz Ward... Why do they make ward entrances so hard to find?"

"Er... I think we've been down this corridor, Harry," Ron said, looking around with a suspicious squint.

"How can you tell? They all look the same to me. Wait, there!" Harry pointed to the _Merula Schwarz Ward for Curse Removals_ sign ahead of them in triumph.

"Remind me again why we're going to visit Malfoy in hospital?"

The owl that had brought the letter to Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes had arrived during lunch. Harry was sitting with Ron and George in Fred's old flat where Harry had been staying since the end of the war. The important-looking bird had landed in the middle of the table, almost upsetting George's plate, and imperiously stuck its leg out for Harry to take its message. Harry swallowed his mouthful and was glad he had when he opened the letter. Narcissa Malfoy's signature was the last thing he had expected.

"Because Mrs Malfoy asked me to, and because she said it was urgent," he replied to Ron's question out loud.

The Merula Schwarz Ward consisted of a single long corridor with doors leading off both sides. It was utterly silent. With a certain unease Harry wondered what kind of curses had to be locked away behind doors like this.

Lucius Malfoy stood at the end of the corridor, stiff and regal, and Harry set off towards him. He could see Malfoy's face tighten as he and Ron approached.

"D'you reckon his wife told him she'd written to you?" Ron wondered out loud.

Privately Harry wondered the same thing. Malfoy looked about as welcoming as a glacier, but they were here now, and needed to know what was going on. Harry couldn't imagine Mrs Malfoy's fear-filled letter was faked and if Lucius didn't know, that was something else she would have to explain.

Harry stayed calm as he came to a stop in front of Malfoy. He seemed less tall and imposing now than the last time Harry had faced him, but somehow he still managed to look down his nose at the two of them.

"I don't remember you being invited, Weasley."

Ron stiffened. "If you want Harry's help I'm going to be right there beside him. Right, Harry?"

Harry didn't want to pick a fight in a hospital corridor, but he appreciated Ron's support. "Er, yeah. He'll want to know what's going on anyway so he may as well be here."

Malfoy's eyes narrowed. "If you think I intend for the entire world to hear about this you are very mistaken. My son's health is no one's business outside of his family."

_So what did you invite me here for?_ Harry resisted blurting out the impulsive response, reaching for patience. "I'm not interested in telling the world. I just want to know what's going on and Ron is my best friend. If he's not here, I'm going to tell him later anyway."

Malfoy glared at them both. Harry waited. He could almost see the wheels turning as Malfoy weighed up his options. Finally Malfoy's nostrils flared and he bit out: "What happens in this room doesn't go beyond the two of you."

"And Hermione," Ron piped up.

"The Mudbl-"

"Don’t start!" Harry snapped before Malfoy could even finish the word. "If you want my help the least you can do is not insult my friends in front of me. Or I'm walking out of here right now."

Malfoy went pale. His lips thinned but whatever was going on with Draco had him scared. Harry understood that much at least.

"Very well," Malfoy conceded at last, but the disgust was evident in his voice. "But not beyond the three of you. Or I will know about it."

"Fine," Harry said.

Malfoy opened the door to Draco's room. He continued glaring at Ron and Harry as they stepped inside, but Harry paid no attention to him.

Draco was sitting up in bed, slumping into his pillows. He was paler than Harry had ever seen him, including during sixth year, as if he'd been drained of blood. But his eyes narrowed like his father's when he spied Ron.

"What is he doing here?"

"Moral support," Ron said.

Draco groaned. "Merlin! This is humiliating enough without dragging Weasleys into it." He moaned, wrapping his arms around his torso as though he were in pain, white fingers digging into his sides.

"We can always leave if you don't want us here," Harry pointed out.

"Gentlemen," Mrs Malfoy's voice cut through the room like ice. "Perhaps I should explain the situation before anyone storms out of anywhere." Her gaze swept the room, piercing everyone in the room including her husband, as he closed the door.

"I'm not going anywhere," Draco muttered, but everyone ignored him.

"Mrs Malfoy," Harry said with a polite nod.

"Mr Potter, thank you for coming so quickly," she said stiffly, but not insincerely.

"You said you needed my help," Harry repeated as an explanation. Actually she had written something more along the lines of him being the _only_ one who could help Draco. As much as Harry hated the implication of being yet another "chosen one" he couldn't in good conscience ignore it.

"Indeed," she nodded. "Perhaps you should have a seat." She indicated the chair opposite hers and Harry did a quick mental catalogue of the room. They were all seated, Lucius beside the door like a guard, though all but Draco probably would have wands on them and Harry had no intention of trusting any of them. He felt safer on his feet.

"I'd rather stand, thank you," he decided. 

"Suit yourself," Mrs Malfoy said. Even her shrugs managed to look both graceful and condescending at the same time. "I suppose I should begin by explaining that my husband is unable to father children of his own. We discovered that after we were married and failed for some years to have children."

Harry couldn't help his gaze from going from Malfoy Senior - looking supremely uncomfortable - to Draco. Lucius wasn't Draco's father? The thought echoed with shock around Harry's head. He'd never given it a second thought; they looked so similar.

"He's not your father?" Ron voiced the thought for both of them.

"Of course he's my father, you twat," Draco sneered, "he's the only father I've ever known."

Ron went pink. "I meant..."

"Thankfully Draco inherited most of my looks," Mrs Malfoy inserted before another argument could develop. "His blood father..." her voice trailed off with a sigh and Harry could hear the depths of pain in her sigh. "Lucius and I appealed to St Mungo's for help. There is a fertility department in the basement that helps witches and wizards who cannot conceive children on their own by using donors and surrogates. Draco's blood father was James Potter."

Now Harry understood why Mrs Malfoy has offered him a seat. He felt like all the blood had drained from his head. "My father?"

Mrs Malfoy quirked an eyebrow. "Unless you know of another James Potter. I assure you the records here are quite accurate."

Harry felt a bit faint and he dropped into the empty seat across from her. He heard a snort from Draco's direction. Ron's firm grip on his shoulder was the only thing that kept him grounded.

"I didn't know." No one had told him. Who else had known? His mother probably. Had Sirius known? Had Remus? Had _anyone_ known that his father was a donor?

"Of course you didn't," Mrs Malfoy continued, "the records are confidential. After all, what would the other families think? No one else knows apart from you now, and that's the way it will stay, will it not?"

Harry nodded, too stunned to even react to the subtle threat. He felt like his brain had gone numb from lack of blood. His father had been a sperm donor. His father had helped create Draco.

_His father had helped create Draco._

Harry looked up to stare at the man in the bed. "You're related to me."

"Bravo," Draco said dryly, but he looked like he was in too much pain to enjoy mocking Harry properly.

The fact sunk into Harry's brain: Draco was sick. Harry was related to him. Bloody related! _Blood related._ Maybe it was something genetic!

"What's wrong? What happened to Malfoy? Is it something to do with my father?" _Our father_ , his brain corrected, kicking in all at once. And wow, that was a bizarre thought.

"It's not all about you!" Draco snapped. "I'm the one suffering here. Ow! Fuck!" He doubled over, gasping.

Mrs Malfoy cast a quick charm over him and pulled him back into his pillows. "Hold still, darling, or you'll make it worse."

Draco had his eyes pinched shut, pulling air in between his teeth. He looked terrible.

"You're half right, Mr Potter," Mrs Malfoy said, drawing Harry's attention again. She resumed her seat and folded her hands in her lap, wand loose across her legs. "Draco has been affected by a Blood Curse. The cure is simple, but it requires a wizard who is closely related to him. You see our dilemma."

Things started falling into place. Lucius couldn't help his own son. The only cure was to reveal Draco's parentage to the only person who _could_ help him. That explained Mrs Malfoy's insistence that Harry was the only one who could help.

But still, Draco was related to him! Harry's thoughts kept circling back to that fact. He had no reason to doubt it, and yet it all felt surreal. All these years they hadn't known.

"What about Teddy? I mean, Edward Lupin," Harry asked. Teddy was Draco's cousin, after all. Or cousin once removed, at least.

Mrs Malfoy shook her head. "The closer the relation the more effective the cure. Since you and my son share a father you were the natural choice."

Still it refused to sink in. It would probably take a while for that to happen. Harry couldn't even imagine saying Draco was his half-brother.

No, he wasn't ready to think of that yet.

He stared at Draco, examining that pale face. He had always seen a younger Lucius there, but how much of that was from his learned expressions, and how much of that was what Harry had been expecting to see? Mrs Malfoy was right: her son shared a lot of her features. Just what had Draco inherited from his biological father? Stubbornness? Temper? The sound of his voice?

Draco met his eyes and the word resonated through Harry's head again: Brother.

He looked away.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked.

"It's quite simple," Mrs Malfoy said. "The Healers will need a drop of your blood for the potion to cure Draco. Does this mean you agree to help him?"

Harry nodded.

He heard Lucius stand behind him. "I will inform our Healer."

The door opened and closed again, leaving silence in its wake. Harry glanced at Ron. He looked just as stunned as Harry felt.

"So, uh, what is this Blood Curse anyway?" Harry asked to fill in the silence.

"Dark Arts," Mrs Malfoy replied, "and not easy magic, at that. It's cast to affect one member from a certain family. It's not the most accurate magic since it doesn't specify which member of the family will be affected, but it can be cast from a distance so there's very little chance of being caught, and that makes it an attractive form of revenge for some. As I said, only a closely related witch or wizard can provide the cure, depending on the gender of the victim, but in the meantime the curse inflicts tremendous pain and eventually death." Her voice only wavered a little as she spoke and Draco reached over to take her hand.

Harry shifted in his seat watching the family scene. He thought of Mrs Weasley throwing herself into cleaning and helping others - even offering to help demolish what was left of number twelve, Grimmauld Place, after the Death Eaters had been through it - as if running herself ragged would bring back Fred. And poor little Teddy being raised by his grieving grandmother. Voldemort had broken up far too many families. And still things weren't all right. Harry wondered if they ever would be.

"Have you spoken to the Aurors about this?" Harry asked.

"Of course we have," Draco said. "But no one's going to consider our family first priority anymore, are they?"

Kingsley had sent Harry a letter a few weeks ago offering him a position in Auror training. It was tempting. Harry liked the idea of stopping another Voldemort before anyone else could get hurt, or before any other children lost their parents. But he also wanted to live long and die a natural death, not at the end of an enemy's wand, and he certainly didn't fancy another Dark witch or wizard gaining control of the Elder Wand.

There wasn't anything he could do to help the Malfoys now, apart from helping Draco, but it still wasn't fair that people were getting away with trying to kill each other.

"Don't you even have any idea who might have been trying to kill you?"

"We have a number of enemies," Mrs Malfoy said, "on both sides of the political divide. Any one of them could have decided to send us a message, but I assure you I will look into it."

He didn't doubt her fervour. 

A few uncomfortable minutes later Lucius returned with a Healer in tow, an older man with his back so straight he looked like he'd had a steel rod jammed down the back of his robes.

"Mr Potter, thank you for joining us," he said when he saw Harry. "I am Healer Frykberg. I trust the situation has been explained to you?"

Did the man ever smile, Harry wondered. "Yes, Healer."

"Splendid," Healer Frykberg said flatly, pulling a small vial out of his pocket. "I have here a potion called _Domusdonum_. It is the only known cure for Blood Curses. All I need from you is one drop of blood to prove a blood relationship. Are you willing to provide that?"

"Sure." Though the idea of being related to Draco still sounded foreign. What if the potion didn't work? What if the records were wrong? What if there _had_ been another wizard called James Potter? What if the Malfoys were conspiring with the Healers and were lying in order to steal his blood? Though he didn't really believe that last one, the potential for error gnawed at his thoughts.

"Well then," Healer Frykberg said, stepping around Ron and lifting his wand, "hold out your finger."

Harry did as he was told, trying to suppress the doubts at the back of his head. He still felt as if he were walking in a dream, like this all wasn't really happening. Surely someone, somewhere had made a mistake. But leaving Draco to just suffer and die was not an option. Not when he could help so easily.

A pinpoint of pain touched his finger and blood welled on his fingertip. Healer Frykberg levitated the droplet with great care, guiding it into the vial in his other hand. Harry watched it, transfixed.

It disappeared inside the vial and the orange contents turned a stunning dark blue.

"Ah!" said Healer Frykberg. Harry couldn't read his face but since he hadn't said "uh oh" Harry was going to assume that was a positive comment. "Now, Mr Malfoy, if you would please take this."

Draco's gaze darted to Harry for a second before accepting the potion, but Harry saw the same trepidation he was feeling. What if this worked? What would it mean?

Draco grimaced as he lifted the vial and downed it in one swallow.

Harry was sure everyone in the room was holding their breaths.

"Well, Mr Malfoy, how do you feel?" Healer Frykberg asked.

All at once Draco sagged into his pillows, tension leaving his face, replaced by relief. "Merlin, that's better!"

"Splendid," Healer Frykberg said in the same flat tone. "Any lingering pain or tingling in the joints? Any numbness?"

"No, nothing."

They really were related. It was all true. Harry felt like the floor had fallen away underneath him.

The whole situation was wild and unbelievable, but it was hard to argue with a potion that worked so quickly. He had a living relative in the wizarding world, and that relative was Draco Malfoy. He wasn't sure how he felt about that. Pleased? Disappointed? All he knew for certain was shock.

"Come on, Harry," Ron said, squeezing his shoulder. "Let's go get some air."

He nodded and let Ron drag him out of the chair.

"Mr Potter?" Healer Frykberg said, turning. "You appear rather pale. Perhaps you should eat something. Try the Cherry Tarts in the Visitors' Tearoom. Can't have you fainting in the corridors now, can we?"

Harry nodded again. "Excuse me," he said to Mrs Malfoy, before letting Ron drag him to the door. He only looked back once to glance at Draco, surprised he wasn't being mocked for his quick exit, but Draco was just staring at him.

Harry turned away again and followed Ron out the door.

 

* * *

 

Harry gazed at his own face in a mirror by the Shield Hats stand, searching in vain for some resemblance. He saw only his father's face: his jaw, his cheekbones, his nose, they all belonged to his father. Except his eyes, of course. Nothing made him think of Draco.

He turned his head. Maybe his ears? He hadn't exactly spent much time looking at Draco's ears before so it was hard to tell. His own were small and a bit flat.

He sighed.

In the days following the revelation, Harry was struggling. Every morning he woke up and was smacked by the thought, _My father was a sperm donor and no one ever told me_ , or _Draco Malfoy is my blood brother_. He still hadn't decided how he felt about all this. He finally had a living magical relative - a brother - and it had to be a Malfoy, of all families.

Harry turned back to his work, still distracted, and almost tripped over an elderly lady in floral robes.

"I'm sorry," he apologised quickly.

But she didn't seem offended in the least. "Harry Potter? Why, what are you doing here?" she asked, as if she had been expecting Harry to be off fighting evil rather than acting as a shop assistant.

"I... um, I work here."

She looked him over with a critical eye. "Well, apart from looking underfed you look quite well."

Harry wondered why he should be unwell to be working in a shop.

"I am well. Um. Thank you."

"Well, that's good to hear," the lady said, her eyes going vague and distant as she continued on her way through the shop, muttering to herself.

Harry resolved not to let further thoughts of his father or Draco distract him. 

The resolution lasted about two minutes.

He knew George was noticing his distraction, but Harry waved away the questions and forced himself to concentrate on stocking and tidying shelves. Since he was probably never going to see Draco again anyway, he told himself he shouldn't dwell on the situation, but he couldn't help it.

Irrationally he got angry at Sirius and Remus. He wanted to drag them from beyond the grave and yell at them: "Why didn't you ever tell me?" But that too was impossible. In all probability they wouldn't have known anyway. He couldn't imagine them keeping something like this from him.

He wished Hermione were there, but she was back at Hogwarts with Ginny and Luna, finishing off her N.E.W.T.s. Instead he could only owl her, even though he knew Ron would have done the same, just wanting someone to talk to.

Three days after his trip to St Mungo's Harry was having breakfast in George's kitchen. They usually had meals together. It was better than eating alone, especially since they lived right next door to each other. 

They had just settled down to eat when a dozen owls landed on the roof outside the window in quick succession.

"What on Earth?" Harry managed to catch his spoon before it hit the floor.

"There's someone downstairs," George said at the same time.

"A customer? But we don't open for another half an hour."

George shrugged and indicated his clock. The single hand had swung from _Time to Eat_ to _Time to Get Downstairs_.

"Better go see what this is about," George said, pushing back from the table with a mournful look at his untouched food.

Harry glanced at the owls, decided he was too curious and that the mail could wait, and followed George out of the little flat.

Before they even entered the shop they could hear the banging of someone on the front door.

"Open the fucking door, Potter, or I'll blast it off its hinges!" a very familiar voice yelled from outside.

"Oh no..." Harry groaned, wishing he was still in bed. It was too early to deal with Draco now.

"Ah, Harry, what have you got yourself into now?" George asked with raised eyebrows.

Harry sighed. "Just let him in before he wakes the entire neighbourhood."

Through the glass Harry could see a very red-faced Draco Malfoy, and as soon as George spelled open the locks he barged inside.

"I knew we should have made you take an Unbreakable Vow!" he stormed across the shop to Harry. "Was destroying our reputation not good enough for you?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about," Harry said.

"Oh no?" Draco sneered. "And what's this then?" He waved a copy of the _Daily Prophet_ in the air.

"A newspaper?"

Draco opened his mouth, presumably to yell at Harry some more, when George snatched the paper from his hand.

"Let me see that." He read out loud: "Brothers Concealed: Potter and Malfoy Secret Revealed," George scoffed. "When did the _Prophet_ turn into the _Quibbler_?"

"Keep reading," Draco said, though he was still glaring murder at Harry.

"'Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, Defeater of You-Know-Who,' blah blah blah..." George continued, "'has discovered a brother in the form of none other than the youngest Malfoy, Draco, whom he publically defended against accusations of being a Death Eater just last month...' Where do they get this stuff from?"

But Harry had just realised what all the owls upstairs meant. He felt his world tilt. "How did they find out?" he asked Draco.

Draco scowled. "Well, I wonder."

"I swear I didn't tell anyone except Hermione," Harry said. "I don't know how the _Prophet_ found out but it wasn't from me. And I trust Ron and Hermione, they'd never do something like this behind my back."

"Well, that explains a lot," George piped up. "Thought you were a bit depressed since you got back from St Mungo's. Hello, listen to this... 'An unnamed source at St Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries said he was certain the men shared a father. He said the proof was in the hospital records.' I thought those were supposed to be private."

"They are," Harry said. "I only found out because Mrs Malfoy told me."

Draco glared at the two of them. "If you're implying that Healer Frykberg is less than ethical, I'll have you know he's treated our family for years and his standards are beyond reproach."

"Well, you know our friend, Harry," George said with a grin. "Can't go anywhere these days without making the front cover."

Harry scrubbed a hand over his eyes, displacing his glasses. "George, please." It was too early to deal with both Draco and George's teasing. He hadn't even had breakfast yet and his day already looked like it was going to be a nightmare.

"It's true though," George said, "and great for business, by the way. Can't go anywhere without people talking, this one. They stare, whisper, gossip. If they had access to our staff records they'd try to go through those too, I'd wager."

Harry stared at him, taking in the benign smile.

Draco too seemed to have caught on because he looked a lot less like he was about to hex Harry. "Give me that," he said, snatching the paper so he could skim the article again. "It doesn't say anything about who their source is."

"Of course not," Harry said. "They know they're breaching patient confidentiality. I really don't want to deal with my mail this morning."

"If you want the day off, Harry, Verity and I can manage without you," George said.

"No, I'll be fine, but thanks. I'll get Kreacher to deal with it." Harry looked over at Draco again, noting the narrowed eyes roving over the article as though he could glare it into giving up its secrets. "I could try talking to the hospital," he offered.

Draco shook his head. "Leave that to me. I promised them funding for their new research wing and if they want my assistance they'll give me theirs. I'll find out who's behind this leak." He sounded as ominous as his father for a moment. No, as ominous as Lucius. Harry ran a hand through his hair. He still couldn't decide on which of them to call Draco's father.

"Alright. Just, um, let me know what you find out."

Draco smirked. "Want your own shot at revenge, Potter?"

"No, I just need to know that someone so unethical isn't going to keep working there, that's all."

Draco tucked the newspaper under his arm and lifted his chin. "Fine. I'll owl you when the perpetrator has been fired."

He turned and strode to the door.

"Hey, Malfoy!" Harry called out

To his surprise Draco stopped and turned back to him, brows raised in question.

"Did you know before? That we were related, I mean." It was Harry's insecurity as much as his curiosity speaking. He didn't want to think that Draco had been tormenting him all these years because he'd seen Harry as the brother who had rejected him.

"My mother told me the day I was brought to St Mungo's," Draco said. "Why? Afraid I was keeping things from you?"

Harry shrugged, not sure what to think of that answer. "It crossed my mind."

"No, my parents kept it from everyone. Including me," Draco said, somewhat peevishly. "Though I assure you it wouldn't have changed anything if I had known."

Harry thought about that for a moment. He could only imagine Draco would have been even more obnoxious trying to win Harry's favour on the Hogwarts Express, and then even more infuriated when he was rejected. "No, I guess it wouldn't have."

Draco smiled, a hard, sharp smile. "Cheer up, Potter. You're moving up in the world."

Harry snorted. "Piss off, Malfoy."

"My pleasure."

With that Draco turned and strode from the shop, head held high, his robes fluttering in the wind. He couldn't have looked more different from the man in the bed three days ago.

"It figures," George said. "I lose a brother and you find one." There was an unfamiliar hint of bitterness to his smile.

"You can have mine, if you want," Harry said. Though admittedly this had probably been the friendliest conversation they had had in their lives.

That evoked a laugh. "No thanks. You keep him."

Before heading back upstairs again Harry called for Kreacher and told him to get rid of any letters that weren't from friends or officially from the Ministry. The old house-elf agreed with only a passing remark about how wonderful it was for Harry to be associated with a great family like the Malfoys. Evidently house-elves read the newspaper too.

 

* * *

 

The next few days brought further stories in the all the various wizarding publications:

_The Daily Prophet_ \- "Gaia's Fertility Clinic at St Mungo's Sees Upsurge in Business."

_Witch Weekly_ \- "Celestina Warbeck: 'I almost had a Potter baby too!'"

_Warlock Business_ \- "Malfoy Estate Resolved: 'Draco is still my son, and he is still a pure-blood, worthy of one day leading the House of Malfoy.' Full Report Inside."

_Magical Monthly_ \- "Born or Bred? How One Son Became a Hero and the Other a Death Eater!"

_The Quibbler_ \- "Billywig Swarms Affecting Earth's Magical Poles!"

Harry threw most of them aside in disgust and instead tried to concentrate on his own life. It was the only thing that kept him from going completely out of his mind.

He had his job at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, plus the support of eight Weasleys behind him, and when the construction crew finished working on Grimmauld Place he would have a house again too. He had a beautiful little godson who adored him, and dozens of friends who all wrote to support him.

He couldn't have asked for more, and he certainly didn't feel the need to add a brother who couldn't stand him into the mix.

 

* * *

 

Harry Apparated onto the road leading to the Burrow, stumbled as he landed on a loose rock, and stood there for a moment taking in his surroundings. The familiar house rose ahead of him and the sound of chickens was clear even at a distance.

He smiled. The old family house was as dear to him now as ever. Without random explosions coming from Fred and George's old room, or Percy yelling for some peace and quiet, it was more silent now, less innocent, touched by tragedy, but its warmth never faded; its heart remained. It still felt like home.

With a spring in his step, Harry started off towards it. He had to step carefully on the broken edge of the road, and a rock turning under his foot nearly took his ankle with it, but he managed to catch himself before he went over into the bushes.

A curse flashed by, just missing his shoulder.

Harry threw himself sideways, reacting on instinct.

Branches scratched his hands as he dove off the road and his knee throbbed where he landed on it. Surrounded by shrubbery he scrambled to see the road. He clutched his wand tight as he searched the land behind him.

The crack of Apparition rang out. All Harry saw was a robed figure vanishing.

Then there was silence.

From between the branches of a thorny shrub Harry scanned the area. His hands stung and his blood pounded in his ears, but he kept still, waiting and listening. Nothing moved. No one appeared, and no one threw any curses at him.

He knew better than to hope they had given up so he waited, barely breathing.

Seconds passed in silence. Two swallows dipped low over the dusty road. Wind shook the branches of the nearby trees, and a butterfly flew past Harry's face, close enough to touch.

Still nothing moved.

Harry eyed the house ahead of him. He could make it. If he moved fast enough.

He took his chance.

Apparition took him to the edge of the wards. He stepped through their protection into safety. Then Harry spun to face the hills again. His wand trembled in his hand as he took in the grass and trees. The last thing he had been expecting was to get attacked on his way to the Burrow. But still no one appeared and nothing else looked unusual. Only the wind-rippled rushes moved.

"Harry? Is that you?" Ron's voice came from behind him.

"Yeah, Ron," Harry called back, unwilling to take his eyes off the surrounding countryside even though it was becoming increasingly obvious that there was no one else out there.

"What's going on?" Ron asked, his voice closer now.

"Someone just tried to hex me."

"What? Here?" Harry could hear the crunching of Ron's shoes on the gravel behind him.

"Up on the road, yeah."

Apart from a few birds and the ever-present wind, nothing moved.

Harry was forced to admit his attacker had escaped.

"Damn."

"D'you see who it was?" Ron asked. He had his wand out and was scanning the surrounding area.

"No." Harry turned to inspect his shoulder. His robes were smoking but the curse had missed his skin. "I only heard someone Apparate."

Ron looked grim, still taking in the hills. He would make a good Auror, Harry thought, shaking out his aching hand. A few of the thorns had drawn blood.

"Come on," Ron said. "Let's get inside."

Mrs Weasley was in the kitchen, soap suds flying around her ears as brushes and sponges scoured every available surface. She greeted Harry with a warm smile and a slightly damp hug. She was always cleaning these days.

He and Ron managed to escape after her welcome with only a few soap bubbles in their hair and headed upstairs.

"Who do you think it was trying to hex you?" Ron asked as soon as they were out of earshot.

Harry tapped his wand to his hand, doing what he could to heal the scratches. His knee still throbbed too. "I don't know, but they didn't catch all the Death Eaters, did they?"

"You reckon it was a Death Eater?"

"Well, they can't be too happy with me right now. And I thought I saw the robes." He wasn't certain, but he thought he had seen a covered face, if only for a moment.

"You need to tell Kingsley," Ron said. A stair creaked under his foot, too loud in the quiet house. "He'll get the Aurors on it."

Harry refrained from groaning. He didn't relish the prospect of yet more _Prophet_ articles, yet more attention, but he knew Ron was right. If Death Eaters were following him, the Aurors needed to know. "Yeah, I guess. Can I borrow your owl?"

 

* * *

 

Draco's letter arrived sooner than Harry had expected.

 

Potter,

Healer Payne was dismissed yesterday for breach of patient confidentiality. He'll never work at St Mungo's again.

Enjoy your victory.

Draco Malfoy.

 

Concise and direct, and exactly what Harry had been expecting. It was a wonder Draco had written to him at all. He doubted Draco wanted a brother and Harry had never believed he owed family anything just because they were blood related - he was only just learning how to talk to Dudley - so he certainly wasn't expecting anything more from Draco.

Yet he couldn't help but feel a little disappointed. He wasn't even sure why.

 

* * *

 

Teddy sat in the middle of Andromeda's living room, surrounded by colourful building blocks and squirming soft toys. He was playing with the blocks, made more interesting by the fact that some of the blocks had a tendency to vanish and reappear at random intervals. Every time the blocks moved of their own accord, Teddy blinked and drooled with laughter.

Harry only just heard the sound of the front door being unlocked over the popping of blocks and Teddy's delighted noises. 

"Sounds like your grandma's home," he said to Teddy, getting up to open the door for Andromeda. He wasn't crawling yet, but Andromeda had assured Harry that it wouldn't be long and told him to enjoy not having to run after Teddy while it lasted.

"Thank you, Harry," Andromeda said when Harry opened the door. She flicked out her umbrella charm and rain started falling outside the door again. "How long did he sleep?" she asked, stepping inside.

Harry glanced at Teddy, who was shuffling around on his bottom a bit in an effort to reach more blocks. "He woke up just after three. Do you need help with anything?"

"No, I'm fine, thank you," Andromeda said, digging bags of shrunken groceries out of her purse.

Harry closed the door behind her. She was already halfway into the kitchen before Teddy noticed her.

"Ana!" he exclaimed, lifting an arm as if to reach for her. "Ana!"

Harry smiled. "Yes, your grandma's here. Do you want to go join her?" he asked, picking up the little boy.

"Aaa," was Teddy's response, but his gaze was fixed on his grandmother.

"All right then."

Teddy was growing and changing so fast. Harry didn't know much about children, but Andromeda said that was normal at this age, and Harry enjoyed seeing his godson developing. He was an interesting little person already.

"I hope he didn't give you too much trouble," Andromeda remarked over her shoulder as she started unshrinking and putting away the shopping. "He's teething at the moment."

"No, he was fine. You know I love looking after him," Harry said. In his arms Teddy stuck the corner of a building block into his mouth and his hair went fluorescent orange to match.

Andromeda smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. Harry saw the pain in her face every time Teddy's Metamorphmagus skills activated. He knew she saw her daughter's ghost in Teddy, but he also knew she loved her grandson fiercely.

"You'll make a fine father one day," she said.

"You think so?" Harry did want children one day, but he had no role model for a father. He definitely didn't want to emulate Uncle Vernon.

"Yes. You're good with Teddy."

Harry wondered what his father had been like, how he had played with Harry, whether Harry had adored him too. He couldn't remember.

Inevitably, thoughts of his father brought to mind Draco. Had his father known the Malfoys had conceived a son too, thanks to his help? A son that would grow to hate Harry one day.

Which made Harry wonder how different things would have been without Voldemort. It was unlikely he and Draco would have been best friends but maybe they could have done better than trying so hard to hurt each other. He wondered if they still could.

"Would you want to rebuild ties with your sister, if you could?" Harry found himself asking.

Andromeda hesitated in between stacking jam jars. "I fear Narcissa is too proud to ever lower herself to my level."

"But if you had the chance?" Harry pushed.

Andromeda sighed and smoothed out her black dress. She looked like a Muggle in mourning. "You're not going to believe me when I say I was closest to Bella when we were growing up."

"Bellatrix?"

"She wasn't always crazy," Andromeda pointed out. "She was always intense, passionate, but she and I were close once. Narcissa was always our little sister, the spoilt youngest child, and a bit of an airhead, but we both loved her anyway. By the time we went to Hogwarts the three of us were close friends. Then I fell in love with a Muggle-born."

Harry listened without interrupting; even Teddy was quiet.

"To my sisters it was a betrayal, plain and simple, a betrayal of everything we were raised with and a betrayal of our family. I think I hurt Bella the most, but for Cissy it was probably more a breaking of trust. I was her big sister. She looked up to me, and for me to do something like that..."

"But you fell in love!"

"It didn't matter. We were a proud family with a proper way of doing everything, including falling in love." She smiled wryly. "In marrying a Muggle-born I was degrading and disgracing myself. Narcissa's never really forgiven me for that. She'll have nothing to do with me now, even when I try."

Harry didn't know what to say. He was chilled by the story.

"Is this about Draco?" Andromeda asked before Harry could speak.

He found it a bit hard to shrug with a baby drooling on his shoulder. "I don't know. Maybe." He wasn't sure why Andromeda had the effect but he found himself pouring out everything, even the things he hadn't been able to tell Hermione. "I don't know what to think about all this. We're not enemies, at least, not anymore. But I don't know that we could be friends either. I guess I could ignore him, I've never had a problem doing that with my Aunt and Uncle, but... I don't know, I was hoping maybe I wouldn't have to do that with all of my family. Not that we're even really brothers, I mean, he has both his parents, so..." Even aloud his thoughts sounded jumbled. "When I was little all I ever wanted was a mother and father. A brother or sister would just have been a bonus, and now... Am I making any kind of sense?"

"Perfectly," Andromeda smiled. "Despite the fact that you and Draco never liked each other, you want a brother anyway."

"Maybe. But... why did it have to be him?"

"You don't get to choose your family, Harry."

Harry sighed. "I don't even know how he feels about this. He probably hates me even more now, for messing with his life, or something."

Andromeda pursed her lips. She was quiet for a moment. Then she said: "Have you ever considered he might be feeling the same? The shock must have been the same for both of you, finding out you had the same father like that."

"He knew before I did," Harry pointed out.

"I expect his mother informed him just before she wrote to you. It's shameful for a pure-blood to be infertile and it's not generally talked about. In fact it's hidden and silenced if at all possible."

Harry nodded. "Yeah, he said that."

"I'm sure Draco is just as confused as you are."

"I doubt he wants anything to do with me."

Andromeda spread her hands and vegetables went zooming into the fridge. "Talk to him. At least find out where you stand and then leave it up to him to decide whether or not to contact you. Sometimes that's all you can do."

Harry heard the pain in her voice and wondered if she sometimes missed her sisters, despite everything that had happened.

He didn't even remember his parents and he could understand that.

 

* * *

 

Harry was visiting Grimmauld Place on Monday morning to meet with his builders. At the moment, number twelve was still a skeleton. He and Ron stood staring at it as they waited for the builders to show up. Everything was being redone: windows, walls, everything Sirius had hated and everything that reminded Harry of his godfather. Only Regulus' old room remained untouched. Harry was leaving that for Kreacher.

"Feels weird," Ron remarked, "seeing it like this."

"Yeah," Harry said.

A lot of places were like this now, including Hogwarts, the Ministry, and Gringotts. Everything was being rebuilt.

At that moment a black owl swooped out of the sky with a small package in its beak. It landed on Harry's shoulder, talons digging in under his coat.

"What's that?" Ron asked.

The bird stared at Harry until he took the package, then it took off again, thumping him on the head with its wing.

"I don't know," Harry said. He wasn't expecting anything to be delivered.

The package was box-shaped and small enough to fit in his palm. A brief note was stuck to the outside and Harry tore it off to see who was writing to him.

His blood ran cold as he read.

 

Mr Potter,

I have enclosed a Portkey that will bring you to me when you touch it. I expect to see you soon.

If I don't, I'll start sending you your brother in my next package. Perhaps I'll start with his tongue.

Involve the Aurors and you'll never see your brother again.

 

A few strands of blond hair were attached to the bottom of the note.

"Fuck!"

"Harry?" Ron asked. When he got no reply he reached for the letter. 

Harry let him. His mind was already racing. Someone had Draco. The package contained a Portkey. He could find Draco easily, even knowing it was a trap. And he couldn't _not_ go. Not when he had the opportunity.

"Harry, you've got to tell Kingsley about this."

"I can't tell the Aurors," Harry pointed out, "or Draco will die. I'm not going to let that happen."

"You're going to walk into a trap alone to save that arrogant prick?" Ron sounded disgusted.

"I'm thinking." A few ideas had already occurred to Harry. "Okay, I'm going to need my Invisibility Cloak." So saying, he Disapparated, knowing Ron was likely to follow him.

He wasn't disappointed.

"Kingsley isn't an Auror; not anymore," Ron called after him as he hurried into his bedroom. Sometimes it was inconvenient that his friends could Apparate directly into and out of his flat.

"I don't think the Minister of Magic is exempt from that threat," Harry called back. His cloak still hung in his wardrobe. He balled it up and shoved it into his robe pocket.

"He used to be an Auror," Ron said, appearing in the doorway. "He must know some spells around the Portkey, or something."

Harry started past him but stopped when Ron grabbed his arm.

"Harry! No one will even know where you are!"

Harry took a breath. "If I don't go - alone - Draco will die. This is the only chance he has."

"So what? You need to get yourself killed just because he's suddenly your brother? Is that it? You want a family so badly you'd give in to kidnappers?"

Harry’s anger flared. "No, Ron. That is not it!" Blood pounded angry red in his ears. "I don't care that he's related to me. But I am not going to let someone else die on my account. Not again. Not if I can stop it."

"Then talk to Kingsley! At least let him know what's going on!"

"He'll just try and stop me." Harry wrenched his arm free, determined.

"You don't know that! Harry!"

Harry spun. "What?"

Ron's face was bright red, his expression somewhere between furious and anguished. "What does it matter if you go now or in a few minutes? Look, whoever kidnapped Malfoy won't know you've even got the message yet until their owl gets back to them. You have enough time to talk to someone at least."

At least Ron wasn't telling him not to go anymore. That was one thing Harry was not even going to reconsider. He knew no one would come out of the encounter alive if he didn't show up, and the thought of Draco dying like that made him feel sick to his stomach. He wasn't going to let another person die. Witches and wizards needed to stop fighting amongst themselves. There had been far too many deaths already.

On the other hand, Ron had a point: he had a few minutes, and if Kingsley knew any Auror spells that would help, he'd be an idiot to ignore them.

"All right," Harry said. "I'll talk to Kingsley."

But his hands shook as he fished for his Floo powder. He wanted to get going.

 

* * *

 

"Very clever," Kingsley mused, regarding the tiny button on his desk. It was a decorative, gilded button, so small only a single small fingertip would be able to touch it. "I see they made sure you would not be able to bring company even if you wanted to."

Harry nodded. He was itching to leave and the plush Minister's office was making him feel stifled. He didn't want to dwell on what might be happening to Draco right now.

Behind him Ron waited, and behind him Gawain Robards and half a dozen Aurors. The first thing they had done was verified that Draco was indeed missing. His house elves hadn't seen him and Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy were on their way here now.

Harry tried not to glance at his watch again. It had been half an hour already and he was getting anxious.

"We can put a Tracing Charm on you," Kingsley continued, "so the Aurors will be able to follow you in a few minutes. In that time you need to get yourself and Mr Malfoy to safety."

Harry nodded again. "What happens if the kidnappers have spells against Tracing Charms?"

"Just worry about getting the two of you to safety and leave us to deal with the rest." Kingsley looked so grave Harry felt the full weight of his responsibility.

"I still think one of us should go," an Auror grumbled in the background.

Kingsley straightened. "I have complete faith in Mr Potter's abilities. He is right: if anyone else goes it will put Mr Malfoy's life in further jeopardy."

The complaining Auror fell silent.

Harry took a deep breath and pulled out his Invisibility Cloak and his wand.

"Be careful, Harry," Kingsley addressed him again, pulling out his own wand. _"Index vestiga!"_

The air around Harry grew thick as he felt the spell settle around him. He glanced back at Ron who looked as if he wanted nothing more than to go with Harry.

"Don't worry," Harry said. "I don't plan on dying today. I'll see you soon."

Then he pulled the Invisibility Cloak over his head and picked up the tiny button on Kingsley's desk.

The lurching sensation behind his navel let him know when the Portkey was activated. Kingsley's office disappeared in a swirl of colours and wind whistled around Harry. 

At the same time the thick air around him dissipated as though blown away. He didn't know how Tracing Charms worked, but he was fairly certain that wasn't supposed to happen.

Harry bent his knees to avoid stumbling on the new floor that appeared under his feet. Even so he was off balance for a minute before he caught himself.

The first thing he noticed was Draco staring at his feet. He hurriedly made sure they were covered by his cloak, but the other occupant of the room didn't react as if she'd noticed anything.

Harry's heart pounded as he looked around.

He was in a large room that was almost empty of furniture. It looked dull and dusty, and the view from the window showed thick forest. He didn't know where he was, but the place looked lonely and isolated. It smelt of dust and mildew. Wherever it was, that forest didn't look like anyplace near London.

An older woman stood beside the window, twirling a wand between her fingers. Harry recognised Draco's wand on a small table beside her. She looked like a stouter version of Professor McGonagall and she wore Death Eater robes that were patently too big for her. She also looked vaguely familiar.

A picture on the mantelpiece almost made Harry jump. He recognised the Death Eater, Jugson. In the picture he looked just like he had the night Sirius died.

Across from the woman, Draco sat in a chair, his hands tied behind the back of the seat, but he gave no indication of having seen Harry arrive. There was a spot of dried blood on the corner of his mouth but otherwise he looked unhurt. That was a relief at least.

"Did you set that Blood Curse on me?" Draco asked suddenly.

"What did I tell you about talking?" the woman snapped.

"Must have been a shock when I got sick instead of Potter," Draco continued, without hesitation. "Didn't expect him to have a living magical relative, did you?"

The woman started towards him, her face thunderous, and Harry remembered where he'd seen her before: Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes, but last time, she'd been wearing floral robes. She looked completely different now, her face twisted with hatred.

"If that curse had worked the way it was supposed to, no one would have been able to save Potter! No one!"

Harry crept across the room while the woman's back was turned, edging towards Draco's wand while he listened, intrigued.

"So when that didn't work you tried to curse him directly?"

"HE KILLED MY BABY!" Her shriek echoed through the room.

Draco was trying to look like he hadn't jumped, but his bored mask slipped. "I thought Jugson died when Gringotts caved in," he said quietly, but his voice shook.

Harry snatched Draco's wand off the table and hid it under his cloak. He felt sick. He knew what Mrs Jugson was going to say before she spoke again.

"Yes, when Harry Potter rode a dragon through the bank! How did you think the tunnels collapsed?"

Harry hardly remembered anything of that wild escape, mostly just adrenalin, the great dragon underneath him, blasting its way to freedom. He found it hard to mourn for a Death Eater caught in the middle, and yet he hadn't wanted anyone to die.

Heart pounding, his head filled with memories, he started making a large circle around Mrs Jugson.

"My son," she continued softer. "He didn't deserve to die like that. He strove for what he believed in. He would have been proud to die for the cause but that doesn't make it any easier."

Harry thanked his luck that she was too absorbed in her own memories to even notice Draco's barely concealed expression of disgust as Harry tiptoed across the room. He hardly dared to breathe as he crept past her. Any footstep could give him away.

"He was a great servant to the Dark Lord," Draco said, blandly, but Harry could hear the lie.

_That's it, Draco. Keep her occupied._

"He was so proud to join," Mrs Jugson said, "so proud. He always wanted to change the world. It was his way of playing his part." She smiled at the picture on the mantle. Jugson smiled back.

Harry ignored them as he stepped behind Draco's chair.

Draco's expression didn't change when Harry slipped the wand into his hand, but his fingers tightened around the pale wood as though he had been expecting it.

_Finite Incantatem!_ Harry cast silently, and the ropes that bound his hands disappeared.

Draco didn't move from his position but he visibly relaxed now that he had his wand again.

Harry was just moving away again when Mrs Jugson's eyes fell on the empty table. She jumped and made a noise of surprise.

_"Homenum revelio!"_

_"Stupefy!"_ Harry threw off his cloak as he cast the spell. It was no use anymore and would only hamper his movements.

Mrs Jugson was quick, he had to give her that. She deflected his spell with a flick of her wrist.

"Harry Potter," she panted, wide eyed with a fever he couldn't name. "I've been expecting you. You didn't think you could arrive without me noticing, did you?"

Harry paused, measuring her, waiting for her to attack, bracing to defend himself against whatever she threw. She regarded him with the same attention, and he room held its breath.

_"Osquassa!"_ Draco shouted, leaping to his feet.

Mrs Jugson stumbled as the spell caught her left side, but she recovered quickly. _"Malleus corpus!"_

Draco went flying. His body hit the wall with a dull thud and a sickening crunch. He dropped to the ground like a stone and lay still. Blood stained his blond hair red. So much red, Harry was reminded of the bathroom in sixth year.

Nausea and fury darkened his vision.

_"Crucio!"_

Mrs Jugson blocked it easily, though her left arm hung limp. Even through his rolling fury Harry was morbidly gratified to see that Draco had done some damage.

"Does your precious public know you throw Unforgivables?" She sneered at him. _"Crucio!"_

Harry darted out of the way. Plaster burst from the wall behind him. _"Petrificus totalus!"_

Mrs Jugson spun aside with the ease of a witch half her age. Behind her the window shattered. Glass rained inside, sharp and bright. The previous quiet of the room was utterly destroyed. The noise of ruined furniture blown apart and the roaring of his own blood stoppered Harry's ears.

Harry threw himself out of the way of Mrs Jugson's hex, trying to keep his eyes on her and not on Draco's still form. Her conjured ropes missed him and flew into the wall but Harry was off balance casting his next hex. It flew wide and shattered the picture of Jugson on the mantle.

Mrs Jugson howled. "My baby!" She glared at him, her eyes damp, her wand ready for anything Harry might try. "You will pay, I promise you. I will make you pay. _Petrificus totalus! Sectumsempra!_ " She threw her spells wildly, one after the other.

The shock of hearing Snape's spell slowed Harry down. He had just enough time to yell: " _Protego!_ "

The first curse was deflected off his shield. The second sliced straight through it.

Red hot pain lanced through his hip and his leg gave out. Harry went down on one knee, struggling to stay upright. In disbelief he stared down to see the blood pouring from his side, staining his robes. It burned, like fire in his abdomen, spreading and consuming everything. He gripped his wand tight, refusing to let go, but his arm trembled with the effort.

He glanced up to see Mrs Jugson straighten proudly.

"Now, Harry Potter, my son will finally be avenged," she said. For a moment she reminded him of Bellatrix, all wild hair and mad with grief and the hunger for revenge. He gasped as a spasm of pain shot through his hip, and she raised her wand again.

" _Expelliarmus!_ "

Mrs Jugson spun to stare at Draco as her wand soared out of her hand.

Harry took his chance. " _Stupefy!_ "

Mrs Jugson was thrown across the room by the spell and finally lay still, stunned.

It was over.

Harry dropped his arm, no longer able to lift it, and his wand clattered to the floor. His whole right side was burning, and that spell had taken all his strength.

"Potter, you need to get to St Mungo's."

And then, unbelievably, Draco was beside him, lifting him up with an arm wrapped around Harry's torso. Draco must have had his brains well and truly scrambled from being thrown against the wall, if he was voluntarily supporting Harry.

"I don't..." Harry began. He swallowed. It was difficult to talk, "... can't Apparate."

He looked at Draco's face, disconcertingly close. It was all weird colours: orange and green, and bright red covering half his face, sticking his hair together in wet clumps. His brother. Apropos nothing the thought came to him. He reached up to swing an arm around Draco's shoulders to hold himself upright.

That was when Harry realised he was on the floor. He didn't remember getting to the floor and his side was on fire.

"Potter!" Draco shouted at him but Harry was having trouble focussing on his face. "Damn it. Don't you dare die on me, you bastard. Hold this!" He grabbed Harry's hand and pushed it into his side. Pain seared him and Harry screamed, but it brought him back to full consciousness.

"Now, hold that!" Draco commanded him. He looked a mess with his head covered in blood and his eyes were glassy. "Didn't you think to bring reinforcements?"

"Tried..." Harry managed, silently thanking Ron for convincing him to go to Kingsley first. Not that it did much good. And Draco didn't look like he could Apparate in his state either.

Poor Ron. If help didn't come soon his last memory of Harry would be of fighting with him.

Harry couldn't feel what Draco had made him hold on to, but it felt heavy and hot in his hand. He knew that couldn't be right but he couldn't work out why.

Draco looked around, something close to panic on his face. Then he stumbled towards Mrs Jugson. 

Harry craned his neck to see what he was doing. 

Near her lay her fallen wand and Draco bent to pick it up, slowly and carefully, as though he wasn't completely steady on his feet either. The room was beginning to take on purple colours for Harry and that couldn't be a good thing, but he could still see Draco straighten and approach the window. Sunlight glinted off the shattered glass, blinding him, and Harry struggled to stay conscious. As soon as Draco pointed Mrs Jugson's wand at the sky he understood. Clever Draco.

" _Morsmordre!_ "

Green light stole Harry's vision, the same colour as the Killing Curse. The pain in his side faded to a dull throb, and the world distanced itself from him. 

The hiss of a familiar voice was the last thing he heard. " _Obliviate!_ "

Then all the light drained from his vision completely.

 

* * *

 

Harry woke up to silence.

He was lying down. There was a warm blanket around him, and the air smelt cool and fresh. Whatever had happened was over. He was so tired he had to shut his eyes again, but not before he realised he was safe. He drifted off again, content.

He didn't know how long he slept but the next time he woke up he was wide awake. 

Above him the ceiling was blank, grey tile. It was quiet and bright sunlight filled the room. St Mungo's, Harry thought with relief.

"It's about time."

Harry turned his head in surprise. He wasn't wearing his glasses and the sun was in his eyes so he had to squint to make out the figure slouched in an armchair – probably transfigured – beside his bed. 

Draco.

The memories started coming back to him: the fight, Draco disarming Mrs Jugson and casting the Dark Mark over her house. He'd passed out after that. He didn't know who had found them.

"What happened?"

"A local witch called for Aurors when she saw the Dark Mark in the sky," Draco said with a shrug. "Mrs Jugson confessed to everything: trying to kill you, kidnapping me, casting the Dark Mark after she cut you to shreds because she thought she'd won." The ghost of a smirk crossed his face. "The Aurors even confirmed it with her wand."

Harry relaxed against his pillow. He was so comfortable, and he couldn't even feel any pain. He wiggled his toes and was relieved when he could feel all his limbs.

"That's why you altered her memory."

Draco arched an eyebrow. He looked like his mother when he did that. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Harry smiled. He wasn't going to contradict Mrs Jugson's confession. "Okay. Well, thanks." It felt like such a small word in the face of what Draco had done. He'd almost certainly saved Harry's life by getting someone's attention so quickly. Then Harry remembered where he was. "What are you doing in here anyway?"

Draco grinned. "Family privilege. Weasley's fuming that they let me in before him."

The casual mention of family sent a jolt through Harry. This whole mess had started because Mrs Jugson's curse had hit the wrong person. The wrong brother. He still had trouble believing that Draco was his half-brother, but somehow it didn't seem so bad anymore. Still, letting Draco in to see him before letting Ron in?

"That is messed up," Harry decided out loud.

"Yes, but useful. I thought you should know the official confession before you started asking stupid questions. Just, you know, to keep my nose clean, so to speak," Draco said, pushing himself to his feet. "I'll go tell the Healer you're awake then."

"Tell them to send Ron in," Harry added.

Draco rolled his eyes as he started for the door.

"Draco?" Harry shuffled up onto his elbows, trying to see better. Not even his side ached anymore, though he felt a little stiff as he moved.

Draco stopped halfway across the room. If the use of his first name surprised him, he didn't say so.

"Come by the shop some time. Just... if you want," Harry said. He remembered Andromeda's words. _Leave it up to him to decide. Sometimes that's all you can do._

Draco was silent for a moment. Then he shrugged. "I'll think about it."

He strode out of the room without a further word. At least it wasn't an emphatic "Fuck off," Harry reasoned, which was encouraging.

He slumped back in bed and lay breathing. Everything was so quiet here. His Invisibility Cloak lay folded on the table beside his bed, glasses and wand on top. He wondered who had brought them in for him.

Curiosity finally got the better of him and he tugged aside the blankets to see his hip. A long, thin cut ran from his waist across his hip bone, bruised purple and ugly, and the skin around it was red and swollen. He couldn't believe he wasn't feeling any pain.

The sound of footsteps alerted him to a Healer's arrival and he settled back in bed again to wait.

When the door opened, a witch in lime-green robes entered, closely followed by:

"Ron!"

Ron's pale face lit up. "All right there, mate?"

"Yeah, I think so," Harry said, glancing at the Healer.

"No pain?" she asked him in a broad Scottish accent.

"No."

"Well then, let's have a look at your hip," she said. The spells she cast were all foreign to Harry but he didn't interrupt her to ask questions. "That was a nasty curse you took there, Mr Potter."

"Death Eater's Cutting Curse," he told her.

"Aye, unpleasant stuff," she said. "You're lucky somebody found you when they did; you lost a lot of blood."

Harry thought of Draco's scared face, yelling at him to put pressure on the wound. "It was Draco who saved me," he said. "Mrs Jugson was about to kill me."

"He just didn't want to get accused of killing you himself," Ron grumbled.

"No, I don't think so," Harry said. "He could have run away as soon as I gave him his wand back, but he didn't. He stayed. He didn't have to do that. And he was scared, Ron, when he thought I was dying."

"So what are you saying?"

Like Draco's confusing loyalties at the end of the war, Harry wasn't sure what to make of his actions now. "I don't know," he confessed.

Ron looked oddly at him. "You really do want him for a brother," he said, as if the thought had only just occurred to him.

"Yeah, well, when you save each other's lives it changes things between you. You can't go through something like that - like facing a troll in the toilets - without ending up friends."

"So you save him from the Fiendfyre and he stays to help you fight a Dark witch?"

"Something like that, yeah."

Ron didn't look happy.

"Don't worry, if I had to choose between you and him, he wouldn't even stand a chance."

"I'd hope not," Ron muttered, but he did look happier. He was still more of a brother to Harry than Draco might ever be, but at least now he and Draco had something they could start with, if they wanted to. If Draco wanted to. Harry decided that now might not be the best time to mention how badly he'd reacted when Draco was thrown into the wall.

"Anyway," Ron continued, "Gawain Robards offered me a spot in Auror training. Said he needed a good strategist."

"Congratulations." Harry answered Ron's proud grin with a smile.

"Well," the Healer said, "that's healing well, at least. The scar will get smaller over the next few days and I'll give you some potions to help with the healing."

"Thank you."

She scribbled something on her parchment as Ron took a seat in Draco's abandoned armchair. Harry still hadn't decided whether or not he wanted to accept Kingsley's offer himself. He wanted to bring down the rest of the Death Eaters and their supporters. But the fact that he was still master of the Elder Wand now was only due to him and Draco working so well together. And he was prepared to admit that they did make a decent team when they weren't on opposite sides.

Those thoughts gave him an idea though.

 

* * *

 

Ernest Stump was a little mouse-like man with spectacles who almost fell off his chair in excitement when he heard Harry's plans. He was only too happy to act as Harry's solicitor, setting up meetings with appropriate people at the Ministry and drawing up all the documents Harry would need.

Harry knew Andromeda wasn't alone in struggling to rebuild her life, and he threw himself into researching charity organisations and help funds as he set about founding his own. The research wing Draco was helping to fund for the treatment of victims of Dark Arts had given him the idea, and if Draco could do it then so could he. Someone had to help the families of the war's victims, and this way he could help people like Teddy and Andromeda, Mrs Weasley, and maybe even Mrs Jugson before the war wounds could fester and destroy any more lives. 

It was also a venture less likely to see him killed or disarmed before his time. And when Harry pledged his parents' and Sirius' money to set up the endeavour, he liked to think they were still doing good that way, even after their deaths. The whole organisation would take some time to set up of course, but it was something to work towards, and for the first time since the Battle of Hogwarts Harry had a purpose again. 

On the down side he also had to deal with yet more newspaper articles trumpeting Harry Potter's triumph over the vengeful Death Eater Mother, Agatha Jugson (Draco got a small mention occasionally).

In the meantime he returned to his work at Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes. Since it was still term time at Hogwarts, the customers in person were few, no matter how many newspaper articles Harry appeared in, but mail order was skyrocketing. Harry had never realised just how many students wanted to skive off classes.

Two weeks after his stint at St Mungo's he was up a ladder wondering what on Earth a fourteen year-old needed five litres of Zip and Crackle Energy Potion for, when a familiar voice below him interrupted.

"So, I've been thinking..."

Harry looked down and raised his eyebrows at Draco. "You have?"

He jumped when a cold shock buzzed up his calf. 

"Hey! Up a ladder here!"

Draco smirked as he put his wand away again. "As I was saying, I've been thinking and I've decided the damage is already done."

Harry felt like he'd missed the first part of the conversation. He added a Tickle-Me Button to the basket and decided not to ask what the student had planned.

"Okay. What damage?" he asked, climbing back down to ground level.

"You. Me being linked to you. Apparently now when anyone looks at me, they think of you. My brother. Or half-brother. Or something," Draco frowned at his own clumsy words. 

Harry bit back a grin. It was reassuring to realise he wasn't the only one confused by their situation. "All right," he said, trying to follow along. "Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"Both," Draco said. "But it's not going to change, and I realise that. So I can either ignore it or use it," he grinned. "Did you know I've had more requests for dates in the past month than I've ever had?"

Harry stared at him. "You're using my fame to get laid?"

"What? And you haven't?"

"No, actually," Harry shook his head in disbelief. "Never mind." Of all the things Draco could do, there were worse things he could use their blood-relationship for.

"You know, I never wanted a brother," Draco continued. "Especially not you."

"Yeah, well, you weren't my first choice either," Harry said, looking down at the order form in his hand again. Three tubs of Slippery Dip? He really didn't want to know what the student had planned.

"I heard stories from Daphne and Astoria about how they fought and how their sister always stole their toys. It made me glad I didn't have any siblings."

Harry started for the front of the shop again. "I promise I won't steal any of your toys," he said dryly.

Draco snorted. "Anyway, even if I imagined having a brother he was always younger. I always wanted to be the older one. So since you're younger than me I suppose I can live with that if I have to."

"I'm less than two months younger than you, Draco," Harry pointed out, but a small glow of warmth had settled in his chest at the words. He understood what Draco wasn't saying. Once upon a time, he'd wanted a play-mate too, a companion, or a friend.

"Doesn't matter. You're still younger. And as your older brother," Draco said, emphasising every word, "I have some advice for you."

Harry waited.

Draco smirked. "You need to learn to wear that Invisibility Cloak properly. That's twice I've seen your feet under it."

"Thank you so much for your concern," Harry said, rolling his eyes, but he couldn't stop a smile from stretching across his face. "Wait here a minute."

Verity was tending the counter and Harry handed her the basket and order form.

"Could you finish this order for me? I'm going for lunch."

She smiled. "Sure, Harry. George went upstairs a few minutes ago. Five litres of Energy Potion?"

"I wasn't going to ask."

"Probably wise," Verity agreed.

Harry turned back to Draco. "You want to stay for lunch? I have no idea what Kreacher's making but he always makes too much."

Draco glanced up at where he must have known George's and Harry's flats lay above the shop, looking both anxious and curious. With some wonder Harry noticed that Draco's ears were small and slightly flat. Just like his. 

He smiled. 

Finally Draco shrugged. "May as well. I have nothing better to do."

Harry led the way out through the back of the shop and up the narrow staircase in the staff area. It was a rather dim and rickety staircase, and the walls were covered in pictures of Fred and George together. Harry had never been able to decide whether that brightened the little corridor or made it more grim and depressing. Perhaps both.

Surprisingly, Draco didn't say anything about the pictures.

At the top, a small landing opened on two identical doors, side by side. Harry pushed open his own door and was greeted by the sight of George sitting in the living room, a load of parchment spread out on the coffee table before him, and through the kitchen door Harry could see Kreacher flitting about the kitchen, Regulus' locket gleaming around his neck.

"George? What are you doing?" Harry asked.

George looked up and broke into a smile. "Working on a new product. 'Lo, Malfoy! Try some pastries!" he levitated over a plate full of sweet smelling pastries, which Draco eyed as if they were about to jump up and bite him. Knowing George that wasn't unlikely.

"No, thank you," Draco said, a bit stiffly.

"See, George," Harry said, taking control of the plate and levitating it away onto a side table. "No one wants to eat the food you offer them anymore."

"It's a hard-won reputation," George grinned. "What's a balancer for Yeti Liver in a vinegar base?"

"I've no idea," Harry shrugged. "You know I'm no good at potions."

"Puffer-fish scales," Draco said immediately.

"Of course! Then I can- wait, no, I added Furryfern; that combination will make the Megaria react with the Frailejone buds..." George started scribbling, his quill flying across the parchment.

Harry exchanged a glance with Draco.

"What are you making?" Draco asked.

"Hair growth formula," George said.

"As a potion?" Draco's eyes took on an interested gleam. Harry had a bad feeling about that.

"Dad's going bald and it got me thinking. The charms they've got him using only work on the scalp and need to be renewed every day, but if you got a potion that could be rubbed anywhere..."

"It'd be a lot more effective," Draco finished.

George grinned, nodding. "Just think about it: Hairy Scary! Dress up as a werewolf, or trick your friends by mixing it with their shaving potion!"

"What other ingredients are you using?" Draco asked, walking across the living room to join him. His face was alight with mischief and Harry suppressed a groan.

George rarely showed anyone his working notes. Now he handed them over without a protest.

"I'll be in the kitchen," Harry told them both, though he wasn't sure they were listening to him.

Kreacher was levitating several pots and pans through the air, and Harry had to duck to avoid a flying ladle to the head. He watched as the dishes combined, sending delicious scents wafting throughout the flat.

"Um, Kreacher?" Harry asked, watching the magic. "Could you set out another place, please? We have a guest."

"Certainly, Master." The old house-elf snapped his fingers and plates and cutlery went flying past Harry's head into the dining room.

"Thanks, Kreacher," he said, retreating from the dangerous room again.

Draco and George sat together over the coffee table, discussing in low voices something about balancing ingredients and affectivity ratios. Harry watched them in bemusement. He didn't think he would ever witness that. George had a spark in his eyes that Harry hadn't seen in a long time and Draco looked like he was actually relaxing. His boss and his brother. Who would have thought they'd get along?

For the first time the little flat over Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes felt like home. Not just Fred's old flat, not just the place Harry was staying while he helped out George, and his house on Grimmauld Place was being rebuilt, but an actual home where he felt comfortable with his friends and family. It felt good.

"Hey, Harry," George said, looking up. "I've changed my mind. Can I adopt your brother?"

Draco looked alarmed.

Harry laughed. "Not a chance."


End file.
